Behind The Velvet Curtain
by 0tree0
Summary: Taking a seat at the bar she beckoned over one of the precisely outfitted members of staff and ordered her Cosmopolitan with a practiced ease; good girl Granger was no stranger to a cocktail, especially not of late anyway. T for safety.


**A/N: OK, so I haven't posted anything here in a long time, and I have certainly never written anything with this pairing before, so be kind. I welcome any feedback, this has not seen the care of a Beta, so any mistakes are entirely my own.**

**0tree0 **

Behind the Velvet Curtain

Hermione surveyed the room with a disinterested gaze, The Velvet Curtain never changed, it was dark, discreet, horrifically overpriced, and perfect for a quiet evening away from everything to do with her ex-boyfriend. Taking a seat at the bar she beckoned over one of the precisely outfitted members of staff and ordered her Cosmopolitan with a practiced ease; good girl Granger was no stranger to a cocktail, especially not of late anyway.

She once more assessed the room around her, paying more attention to the occupants this time, it was full of the upper circles of wizarding society, the rich and the famous, grimacing slightly she reminds herself she is now counted as one of them. She doesn't recognise many people there, but then she suspected there were many glamours and Polyjuices at play to aid in that. She sometimes thinks about that, hiding away, but it feels like cowardice. Letting out a long sigh, Hermione drained the last of her drink and savoured the thrill that seeped into her blood as she slowly began to relax a little, she might even find some company after another drink she mused.

Letting her head fall back and closing her eyes, she barely acknowledged the man who refreshed her glass, or the slight rustle to her left as she registered someone taking the seat next to her. At length however she allowed her curiosity to rear its head and languidly opened her eyes and tilted her head.

She felt her eyebrow raise as she realised who it was, he clearly hadn't seen her yet, she doubted he would have sat down if he had.

Shifting herself in her seat she took a sip of her drink and leaned on the bar, turning half to face her oblivious companion.

"You look like you need a drink Mr. Malfoy." she drawled.

He looked up from his position, which if he were anyone else she would have described as slouching, but he managed to make it look elegant and refined, she wasn't sure how, but he did. To his credit he only looked briefly surprised before his features returned to an almost weary nonchalance.

"Miss Hermione Granger, you do surprise." he replied, his piercing steely eyes sweeping her form, she felt suddenly like a prize race horse, like she was being assessed, naked.

She acknowledged the surge of pride she felt in herself as she managed to simply smirk and take another sip of her drink, making and maintaining eye contact.

Malfoy minutely nodded as if satisfied and he shifted his body to match her relaxed position.

"You are also decidedly correct." He acknowledged, making her feel as if she has passed some sort of test, something she felt oddly pleased about.

He briefly lifted his index and middle finger from their resting place on the bar in a barely there gesture, almost instantly a man is stood before him expectantly.

"Whiskey, neat; make it a double." His eyes never left hers as he waited for the drink to arrive, when the wiry young man serving them had scurried off again, he finally took a sip and his gaze fluttered to the amber liquid in the crystal glass before they close briefly in pleasure. The irony of what he had done mirroring her earlier action was not lost on Hermione as she observed. She is acutely aware that everything she was seeing was only because he is allowing it, she understood that he was in total control of this situation, and she was intrigued to see where he intended to lead them.

After a moment his eyes fell open and he once more appraised her.

"Why are you alone in a place like this on a Saturday night." He asked at last.

"I could ask you the same thing." She countered.

He lets out a soft sniff of amusement and took another sip of Whiskey.

"Well then, if you are determined to be difficult I suppose I shall have to exert myself a little."

Hermione leaned forward slightly, interested despite herself.

"I am here because it is one of the few places I am still the Lucius Malfoy I was five years ago, and it amuses me sometimes to pretend that I really am."

Nodding to herself she accepted the honesty in his answer with the restraint.

"And I am here because no one will ask me what my plans are, no one will tell me I will find someone, and more importantly no one tells me they know how I must be feeling." As the last words leave her lips she is surprised at their truth, but is more surprised by how nice it feels to just say it.

A more audible sniff of humour leaves him this time and she finds herself smiling slightly.

"I know how you feel." He murmurs his voice a drawling monotone.

At this Hermione briefly grinned and raised her glass in a silent salute.

"I really don't care, that is what they find so hard to understand. I don't care they are together, it's just a bit… inconvenient." She is staring into space as she speaks, but as she finishes she turns to look at him again.

"I presume we are talking about Weasley." There is no derision in his tone, it is simply a statement.

Realising she has no idea why she is confiding in Lucius Malfoy of all people, Hermione pauses briefly and considers the wisdom of her actions, but just as quickly dismisses the small voice of reason which reminds her she is talking to a former Death Eater, caution be damned she is past caring anymore.

"We are." She confirms, leaning back into the bar stool, shifting her grey pencil skirt lower, her patent black Stilettos glinting in the light.

"I just assumed we would get married, out respective parents would be happy, and everyone would leave well enough alone. His proposing to Lavender is the final nail in a coffin which to be honest was probably buried two years ago." Everything came out in a rush and she forced herself to take a sip of her drink at the end, relaxing into the comforting heat as the alcohol burned her throat.

"Ah." He murmured thoughtfully.

She looked at him over the rim of her glass wondering if she had said too much.

"You seemed ill suited if you don't mind my pointing it out. A match of convenience makes more sense." He responded, meeting her gaze with something akin to sympathy, before he looked away and back at his own drink.

"It was for me anyway, it was expected more than anything. He said he didn't think he made me happy, and he didn't, but he made life easier, and I know he loves… loved me." She muttered, almost to herself.

"It seems we are opposite sides of the same chasm, how odd that the terrain is almost identical."He responded evenly.

At this Hermione looked at him fully, her eyes sweeping his well defined form, his broad shoulders, high cheekbones and long but powerful fingers. She smirked disbelievingly.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, eyes lingering on her slim, pale legs, crossed neatly at the knee, flickering back to her eyes unrepentantly.

She felt her cheeks pink slightly, deciding to blame the drink, not the speculative glint to the eyes of the man beside her.

"You are married; I fail to see how our situations are similar."

"I was married." He enunciated precisely, looking disapprovingly first at his empty glass and then at the barman. It was swiftly refilled, as was Hermione's glass.

He dipped a hand inside the front of his long jacket and produced a slender sheaf of parchment, tossing it onto the bar in her general direction.

Looking at him almost suspiciously she plucked the documents from the cool marble surface, unfolding them in the process. Swiftly scanning the text her eyes came to rest at the final lines of the letter.

"… all files and records held by this British Ministry for Magic pertaining to the marriage of yourself Mr L Malfoy and Ms N Black, formerly Mrs N Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, have now been amended to reflect its dissolution, effective immediately, thank you for your co-operation."

"Wow." Hermione whispered as she finished reading, handing the papers back to her drinking companion, who dutifully stowed them back in his pocket.

"Indeed." He responded.

"When?" She managed to ask.

"Two days ago, it was in the Prophet this morning, frankly I am only surprised it took so long." He replied.

Hermione nodded numbly, a little ashamed at the rush of satisfaction she felt at learning he was single.

"Surely you've done everything you need to do now, I mean you have an heir, made a respectable marriage, no parents to pressure you into settling down…"she trailed off as she met his gaze, realising she was asking more than one question.

Isn't that all I have to do have a red headed child or two then get a tidy divorce and fade into obscurity?

His lips quirked into a humourless, almost sympathetic half-smile.

"It's never over, not really, I am not past my prime, I will be expected by society, by my family, friends and even Draco, to re-marry and ideally have more children, one can never be too careful when it comes to succession, after all." He quipped dryly.

"In due course I will be getting the same treatment as you. The divorce favours me, I will have no betrayal or grave marital crime to hide behind; I think it was Narcissa's last revenge to be perfectly honest." he said resignedly.

Hermione laughed softly. Lucius looked at her curiously.

She smiled at him. "Most men wouldn't complain about an amicable divorce, most would jump at the chance if that was how things had to end."

He snorted in response. "I am not _most_ men Miss Granger."

"No," she admitted, "I suppose you aren't."

"You feel at sea, you want the world to mind its own business but you realise it never will." He supplied after smirking at her comment.

"An accurate summary." She conceded with an amused nod.

"Would you like my advice, Miss granger?" He asked her, his eyes boring in to hers, a flash of something there making her heart skip a beat as she numbly nodded her ascent, not really paying attention.

She felt as if the air was suddenly very thick as he regarded her openly as a woman, nobody had looked at her quite as he was now before. Of course Hermione Granger, acclaimed Charms Mistress, successful academic, one third the Golden Trio had been approached by men before, but none of them like Lucius Malfoy. The blond haired aristocrat was charismatic, potent, he had an air of restrained power and authority about him which was intoxicating, _he_ was intoxicating. His grey eyes were disarming, the sort of eyes which could undress you and make you feel like the most important or insignificant person in the whole world at whim. She wondered distantly whether he made love the same way he made conversation, she thought he probably did, he liked to be in control, she doubted it would be any different between the sheets.

"Well then, in my opinion…" he began, pausing to take a sip of his drink.

Her mind raced back to the present as she berated herself for the direction her thoughts were taking. He is a Malfoy, he is bad news, he is not attractive. She repeated this over and over in the hope it might stem the growing warmth in her abdomen, she already knew it wouldn't.

"… you should find someone you can tolerate, someone who is under the same pressures as you and make the most of it. Your common ground will be a good starting point, and it will allow you the freedom to do more or less as you both wish, all the while keeping the matchmakers and gossips at bay."

She sniggered a little at this. He smiled despite himself.

"I jest of course, that is what I must do. You must politely tell your family to find another lost cause and mind their own business. You are hardly Spinster material yet." He told her, something else shifting in his eyes as he twisted and examined the signet ring on his right hand.

"I wish it was that simple, I think your first bit of advice, however depressing it is, might be the route to take, the one I will take, because it is expected as much if not more than it is expected of you." She drained the last of her drink again, idly wondering whether this was her second or third.

"You are public property Miss Granger, I forget of course. This place does have that effect, indeed I believe I had quite forgotten you were once the wild little thing I met in Diagon Alley all those years ago." He looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes, he was testing her again she realised.

"You are right of course; I did used to be that wild little thing. I used to be a lot of things, you'd be surprised at how much of a difference a war and a career can make, even on the little muggle-born Granger girl, Mr Malfoy." She returned, her eyes issuing the answering challenge.

His eyes blazed, his mouth curling into a hint of a smile, she realised he was impressed, the information struck her so suddenly she knew it was true; she felt a stab of pleasure and excitement as she realised they had changed the game they were playing, changed the stakes and the rules.

"That is the first time you have used my name all evening. It sounds odd coming from your mouth." He stated, eyes caressing her lips before dancing back up to meet hers.

Her breath hitched slightly, "Would you prefer it if I called you something else?"

"You might call me Lucius if you like; it makes me feel less like your business partner." He smirked.

Hermione bit the inside of her mouth as she fought not to grin like an idiot.

"Well then Lucius," She began, testing the word with her tongue as she watched his nostrils flare as she enunciated it slowly and precisely, "I suppose _you _might call me Hermione in that case."

"Hermione." He repeated, his rich drawling baritone making it sound like something forbidden and enticing.

Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to his generous lips as he spoke, they were like everything else about him, somehow delicate and yet strong, her gaze wandered to the line of his jaw, proud and sculpted, to the sinews in his neck, pausing only when they met the collar of his shirt.

She swallowed as he regarded her, his demeanour informing her he was well aware of where her train of thought had been about to take her. He did not look affronted, or at all disapproving, rather she realised he seemed satisfied, pleased even.

A faint blush crept up her face and she turned back to her drink, frowning when she realised it was empty. The barman she quickly determined was serving another man further up the bar, who, upon meeting her eyes, winked salaciously. Swallowing her faint revulsion at his display she was grateful when Lucius shifted his form slightly in his seat to obscure her from view, it was a very familiar and oddly protective (possessive, the breathy ball of arousal which had surfaced again suggested) gesture, not that she was complaining.

Lucius had clearly noted her discomfort and narrowing his eyes slightly he shot a flat but utterly unmistakable look at the man, who in turn flexed his hands on his thighs, rubbing his palms nervously as several seconds went by, finally getting up and taking his drink to another, darker part of the club. Satisfied Lucius returned his attention to her and smiled far more benignly.

The moment had broken the tension for Hermione though; she smiled mischievously in response, biting her lip to suppress a giggle. He for his part tried, and mostly failed, at preventing a smirk spreading across his features.

"Do you practice that?" She enquired after a moment.

He chuckled, a genuine, if small, and deep throaty sound. It made Hermione shiver, even as she stifled another laugh in response to his.

"No, can't you tell it comes naturally." He offered her a sidelong glance as he finished his drink once more, eyes dancing with mirth.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Sighing, Lucius shifted and straightened his jacket. "Well as delightful as your company has been, Hermione," he paused over her name, looking at her directly as he said it, "I really ought to be getting back to my lodgings."

Hermione felt a hot rush of disappointment surge through her, a frown on her face before she had even fully registered the feeling. She schooled her features into something vaguely neutral as she summoned a too bright smile. It stunned her just how much she wanted him to stay.

"Of course, I understand. It has been most… illuminating." She offered him her hand.

He took it into his and lifted it to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles and then tenderly over her fingertips for good measure. She could barely think, she wanted to kiss him so much that it was almost painful. She was aching for him to touch her. Had she ever desired a man as much as she did right now? She couldn't ever remember feeling this strongly; the barest touch of his hand and lips on her slender, small fingers was enough to set fire to her nerve endings. She felt as if he must surely feel the jolt, the spark of energy which exploded within her as he lingered over her fingertips for the barest second.

"You don't want a nightcap, do you?" She had blurted it even before she had thought it. The moment it left her lips she cursed herself. Fantastic, now she looked like a desperate mad-woman, clutching his hand, bright red and wide eyed.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Hermione noticed and internally winced, unconsciously moving to draw her hand back and make a run for it.

"Just a suggestion I mean… I live nearby, I didn't mean that…" She began to babble and then clamped her mouth shut before she could make any more of a fool of herself.

Lucius grip tightened on her hand. He fished in his pocket, threw a hefty pouch of Galleons onto the bar and drew her closer. She became dimly aware they were somehow standing up, unable to remember when that had happened.

His eyes didn't leave hers as he manoeuvred his head to her right, until they were nearly cheek to cheek, his breath hot on her skin, lips nearly brushing her ear.

"Birds of a feather Hermione… birds of a feather." He breathed as much as he spoke, her eyes briefly fluttering closed as the very masculine scent of his cologne washed over her.

Her heart was hammering in her chest; surely he must be able to feel it?

He withdrew and looked at her expectantly, hand firmly holding hers, as if to ensure she didn't bolt away.

She coughed a little, her throat dry. "Well, erm. Shall we Apparate or walk?"

He wordlessly walked around her, tugging her gently with him by the hand, they went through several doors and came out in an elegant courtyard she didn't even know was part of the club.

He again turned to her expectantly.

"We can Apparate from here, are you able to sidelong, or should we travel separately?"

Swallowing again she responded, "I can sidelong you, if that is alright?"

He nodded, shifting his grip so his hand was firmly about her wrist, her hand in the same place on his arm; she tightened her grip in turn. Her last thought before the familiar feeling of being squeezed through miles of thin pipes overtook her was that he trusted her.

When the feeling subsided she sucked in a lungful of air and surveyed the familiar shapes of her belongings in her darkened sitting room. She released the man standing very close to her and fumbled for and found the light switch, squinting briefly as the bulb flickered into life, illuminating the tidy if cluttered room, and the entirely out of place blond wizard at its heart.

He blinked and his eyes briefly surveyed his surroundings before landing on her again. In that moment she wondered what she was doing, Lucius Malfoy was standing in the living room of her half Muggle, half wizard house, in his immaculate, expensive robe, looking for all the world like a time-traveller from the 1900s who had stumbled into the 21st century. Lucius flaming Malfoy was in her house. Was she mad?

As she looked at him, she suddenly realised it didn't matter. He wasn't who she used to think he was, he didn't sneer at her home, or treat her like a foolish child, he had been nothing but courteous all evening, sharing his thoughts with her like she was an equal, a friend, and for now that was more than enough, she would think about the consequences of whatever happened from now on later.

She moved across the room into the open plan kitchen and produced a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses.

"Make yourself comfortable." She murmured, suddenly a little shy, placing the glasses on the breakfast bar.

"Hermione." He breathed as he made his way towards her.

He lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "If I am making you uncomfortable, or you think better of your invitation, I will leave, I will not be offended." She looked up at him her breath caught at the honest concern and understanding there.

All she could think of then was that this was as close as they had been all evening. His fingertips caressed her temple, tracing the curve of her cheek and the angle of her jaw. She drew a shuddering breath and her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch. Slowly he moved his hand away and her eyes flew open in protest, her pupils large and black, behind a haze of desire. There was a question in his eyes and she realise he expected an answer. What had he asked again? Oh yes.

"No." she swallowed and elaborated as he relaxed a little but still looked quizzical.

"No I don't regret it. Inviting you I mean." She licked her lips, "I'd like you to stay."

He smirked at her unintentional double entendre and looked a lot more at ease instantly.

She flushed again as she realised what she had said, but made no effort to clarify, turning instead to pour two drinks. Lucius meanwhile removed his outer robe, draping it over the back of one of the wooden stools at the counter top; he then turned his attention to removing his cufflinks and undoing the top button of his high collared shirt. He placed the silvery 'M' embossed items into his pocket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal an expanse of muscled and lightly tanned lower arms. Hermione removed her cardigan and shoes in an effort to keep from staring.

"This isn't bad actually." He allowed as he took a sip of the Firewhiskey.

"You sound surprised." Hermione smirked, pleased at the return to the tone of the bar earlier.

"I am." He confessed. "I didn't have you down as a big Whiskey drinker."

"It was a present from last Christmas." She admitted unashamedly.

He chuckled. "Hmm."

"Oh hush, Mr. refined." She sniffed airily.

He chuckled heartily again, shaking his head a little at her comment.

"Well then, what shall we toast to?" He asked, changing the subject.

She paused to consider, "To giving less of a damn, to saying to hell with expectations, to good company, and a great night." she said with a mock seriousness, raising her glass aloft.

Mimicking her he echoed her: "To hell with it, good company and a good time."

Their glasses chinked together and their eyes met, both of them now openly smiling at her frivolity. The intensity of the moment stunned her briefly, and before she registered what was happening, she had set her glass down, and moved towards him, a split second later and he had done the same. His eyes were riveted on her as she approached him, her small hands were on his chest, and his larger ones were on her waist.

She met his gaze brazenly and with a confidence she did not know she possessed.

"God Hermione..." he ground out, his voice crackling with need, pulling her tight against his firm chest. His eyes were hazy with desire and his lips were slightly parted, and then he was kissing her. His hands gripped her hips with bruising intensity; she clung to his shirt as she struggled to remember how to stand up. His lips were like a brand on hers, white hot, possessing her entirely, consuming her. In the next moment she was fisting his hair as she tried desperately to press herself closer to him. His hands moved from her hips to her buttocks as he lifted her onto the counter, standing between her legs as she dragged him closer crossing her ankles to keep him there, her skirt had hitched up and revealed an expanse of creamy thigh, which he was already reverently mapping with his fingers.

Hermione shifted slightly in an effort to tug his shirt from his trousers, succeeding in worming her hands underneath and delighting at the sculpted planes she found there. She felt as well as heard him groan against her mouth. She let out a small groan of response, his obvious arousal, pressed into her leg, and evident in the way he murmured her name and gripped her tightly nearly sending her over the edge. Without warning he pulled away, leaving her confused and rumpled on the table top.

This feeling didn't last long as he cupped her face and kissed her, it was soft and slow, but if possible she was even more incoherent afterwards than from the first kiss.

"I don't want to do this here, not like this, in your kitchen." He muttered softly as he caressed her cheeks, which burned under his hands.

"Bed?" Hermione half begged, not willing to even consider that he was going to try and be the gentleman now and stop whatever it was that was happening.

He looked at her appraisingly for an agonising moment before leaning forward and kissing her thoroughly again and then nodding.

She nodded back, shaky with relief. God knows if had left her in this state…

She moved rapidly, seizing his hand and tugging him eagerly into her bedroom, as she closed the door her senses were filled with again. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the large, soft bed.

His hands caressed her stomach as he claimed her lips, her small fingers made quick work of his waistcoat and shirt, her blouse quickly followed. When at last they were both utterly naked, he paused and ran a hand over every inch of her skin, his eyes following. When he had finished he looked at her, his eyes raw with desire and something else, he looked awestruck.

"You truly have no idea how desirable you are, do you?" he whispered, maintaining eye contact. He leaned over her, his body shading hers, his powerful back and shoulders rippling as he held himself above her. Something shattered in her, she lifted both of her hands to his face, abandoning her exploration of his arms, and drew him down to kiss him, throwing herself utterly into the coupling, clutching him tightly to her, feeling at the same time confident, desired, but also fragile and raw. She had been right when she had wondered what he was like as a lover, he was controlled and consuming, he demanded everything but also gave everything, even as the passion built between them to fever pitch, so too did a mass of magical energy, she felt his power, and responded to it at every level of her being, every fibre of her was awash with him and she was euphoric. Together they tumbled into the abyss utterly indistinct from the other.

Her last thought before sleep claimed her, was that she could certainly get used to nights like this.


End file.
